


Heaven is a Place on Earth

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is a Tease, Dom/sub Undertones, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marking, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Possessive Derek Hale, Protective Derek Hale, Smug Derek Hale, Smut, Stiles Stilinski Takes Care Of Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25686667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: Derek glanced up, eyes red, and Stiles promptly choked on his own breath. He was pretty sure he didn’t have a ‘yes sir’ kink but yeah, that could probably do it for him.“You’re so loud,” Derek murmured, letting go of Stiles’s wrists to trace his fingers down Stiles’s chest. Stiles arched up against it and the man smirked.“Too loud.”“I don’t appreciate being shamed for my beautiful voice.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 28
Kudos: 603
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	Heaven is a Place on Earth

The first time it happened, Stiles was pretty sure it was an accident.

He was a little pissed off when he ended up being the one tending to Derek Hale, resident Alpha grumpy werewolf after their fight with the current Monster of the Week. One that just so happened to be against an angry feral wendigo and of course, Derek had been the one taking the slash marks across his back.

Because the wendigo might have been taking pieces out of Stiles instead. But then Derek had been there, angry red eyes sending shudders down Stiles’s spine, and the man had roared out in pain as sharp claws cut across his back.

He’d saved Stiles’s life. Continued to act like nothing had happened. And Stiles was a little more than downright pissed.

Rightfully so, he thought.

Stiles was pretty sure the betas had all come back to the loft after the fight too, if he was correct in listening to the TV blare down the hallway. But none of them were helping. And Derek had just arrived at the loft, gone straight to his room, and slammed the door shut. So, rolling his eyes, Stiles had followed.

Only to find a shirtless werewolf standing in front of the mirror, trying to eye the open gashes that lined his back from over his shoulder. And failing terribly. Stiles stood there for a moment, throat turning dry, and then he forced himself forward.

“Let me help.”

Derek turned to look at him, eyes narrowing. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I can help.”

“I’m fine, Stiles.”

“Dude, you’re currently getting blood all over your floor. Would you please just let me help?”

Derek eyed him for a long moment. Then he grunted and turned away, moving over to drop onto the edge of the bed. Stiles stepped back out of the room, ignoring the betas looks as he padded into the kitchen, grabbed a wet washcloth, and rolled his eyes as Erica grinned when he came back out.

“Clearly, I have to help, since none of you ever take care of your Alpha.”

“Oh yeah,” Erica said, her eyes gleaming. “I’d bet you’d love to take care of our Alpha.”

“Oh my god, please go back to your cartoons and never speak to me again.”

The beta only smirked wider. Stiles shook his head, slipping back into Derek’s room, and firmly locked the door behind him. The Alpha raised an eyebrow and Stiles tried to ignore his warming face, moving behind the man and settling down with crossed legs.

“I hate your betas sometimes. You know that?”

“Hm.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and regarded the open gashes. He winced, wrinkling his nose, and took the cloth to the slower-healing ones. Derek hissed, fingers curling into the blankets. Stiles winced.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Stiles huffed and Derek shot him a withering look over his shoulder. He only grinned right back, fingers tracing over the man’s shoulder blades right above the cuts. He thought Derek shivered a little, but Stiles figured it was probably because of the cold cloth. He chewed on his lower lip, eyeing the man’s tattoo.

“So when did you get it?”

“Get what.”

“Your tattoo, Smartiewolf.”

Derek tensed a little, muscles rippling. Once more, Stiles felt his throat grow dry. And then he cursed himself internally.

“I’m just curious.”

“After the fire,” Derek said, clenching his jaw. Stiles chewed on his lower lip, eyeing it, and then unconsciously traced gentle fingers over the spiraling lines. Derek shivered again.

“Alpha, beta, omega. That’s what it means, right?”

“... Yes.”

Stiles traced his fingers over it again and then moved them up, dancing across the back of the man’s neck. He kind of liked seeing the goosebumps that came to life over Derek’s skin when he did that. He liked the way the man’s breaths changed and he shuddered involuntarily.

Then there was a hand catching his wrist and Derek squeezed it a little, turning to look at him again.

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

Stiles felt his face grow hot and attempted to pull away. But Derek didn’t let go. “Uh, sorry.”

“What were you doing?”

“Touching?”

“Why?”

Stiles swallowed hard, trying to tug back again. Derek’s brows only raised higher and he chuckled nervously. “No reason. Now that’s my hand you’re nearly holding, if you’d kindly let go.”

Derek looked at him for a long moment. Then slowly, he did, and Stiles pulled his hand into his chest before turning his gaze back to Derek’s back and moving the damp cloth over the rest of the man’s blood-crusted skin. Then he wrinkled his nose at the cloth, tossing it away. It hit the carpet with a wet noise.

“Seriously, Stiles?”

“Your injury, your blood, you can wash that up later.”

The man might have chuckled. Stiles shifted back off the bed, wiping his own hands off on his pants. Derek didn’t move from his spot though, watching him silently. Stiles glanced sideways at him.

“What, do you want a Disney princess band-aid too or something too?”

“I could have taken care of that myself.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “I see what this is, Sourwolf. I’m not gonna get a thank you then, am I?”

He thought the man’s eyes sparked a little. Derek pushed himself up, stepping across the room, and Stiles’s breaths unwittingly stalled in his throat. Gentle fingers touched underneath his chin, tilting his face up, and Derek raised an eyebrow. “You want a thank you?”

Stiles’s heartbeat stuttered. “I mean, that would be the polite thing to do. Not that I expect grumpy Alpha werewolves to ever be polite, but—”

He didn’t expect the man to kiss him.

He really should have.

See, the thing about Derek Hale was that he was an enigma. Stiles was pretty sure that over the years, the man didn’t avidly want to kill him anymore. Hell, it had been a solid three years since Stiles had stumbled across a leather-jacketed angry-looking man in the preserve. He’d like to say he was a big boy now— he _was_ going to college after this summer after all— but he still hadn’t figured out Derek Hale, the grumpy Alpha werewolf of Beacon Hills.

He felt a little less like a big boy when he squeaked at the top of his lungs as Derek kissed him. Even more so when he turned bright red, remembering the betas sitting just down the hallway.

When Derek pulled back, he was looking more than pleased with himself. Stiles blinked a few more times, dazed, and then he snapped to reality.

“Okay, what the hell was _that?”_

Derek’s smirk faded. He actually looked a little panicked for a moment but then Stiles was moving forward, catching the man’s lips again. He didn’t think Derek squeaked or anything— totally unfair— but the man was definitely surprised enough to stumble a foot back.

Stiles had already latched on though.

Not like he’d ever thought about it a couple of hundred times since his great bi-realization Sophomore year, but Derek kissed exactly like Stiles had always imagined. Hard, stubbly, and once he got over his initial surprise, with small nips to Stiles’s lower lip.

Stiles was pretty sure that some time in between getting slammed against walls and “I’m the Alpha now”, he’d developed a thing for red eyes and sharp fangs. Not like he was having an existential crisis right now or anything, though.

At one moment, there were hands carding through his hair and sharp teeth tugging at his lower lip. Stiles kissed him back hard, fingers curling into his t-shirt. And he totally didn’t whine at the back of his throat but if he did, could he really be blamed?

But then Derek was pulling back again. Stiles wavered, feeling a little dizzy, and then he snapped his mouth shut. Derek looked dazed too. And a little more panicked than before.

For a moment, he and Derek staring at each other. 

Stiles nervously wet his lips. He thought he could taste the smallest hint of blood from one fang nipping a little too hard. Derek’s face was bright red. His eyes were dilated and he wasn’t moving either.

“Okay,” Stiles said, voice small. “Um. That?”

Derek stared at him for another long moment. Then he blinked, moved around where Stiles stood, and was gone. Stiles stared at the blank wall for a moment. Then he turned, staring at the door.

The TV still blared from somewhere down the hall. Derek was long gone and Stiles thought he could hear the sound of the loft door slamming shut. He was pretty sure there was no way he could go show his face out there. Or at least, he really didn’t want to.

He still did. And Erica’s smirk was unfairly knowing. Stiles hated Derek’s betas sometimes.

Suddenly, he hated Derek a little bit too.

-

The second time it happened, Stiles was pretty sure it was _not_ an accident.

He might have been avoiding Derek like the plague for a solid two weeks. Or maybe Derek was avoiding him. He wasn't sure, but he definitely hadn’t seen the man’s grumpy growly face for long enough that Stiles had stopped feeling like his heart was hammering against his chest at the very thought of red eyes. 

But then Stiles came by the loft for a pack meeting and suddenly, meeting grey-green eyes across the room, all Stiles could do was not choke on his own breaths.

Derek raised a brow. Stiles felt his face turn hot, moving quickly over to Scott’s side. And Erica’s expression definitely wasn’t fair.

Stiles was pretty sure the meeting was important. He was also pretty sure he should be listening, not letting his mind wander. But instead, he spent the entire time staring at his shoes, trying not to remember the feeling of Derek’s lips against his own, Derek’s hand in his hair-- and how had all of this happened anyway? 

Oh, yeah. A touch.

Why couldn’t Stiles just keep his hands to himself?

He didn’t look up for a full hour until he realized how silent the loft had become. Snapping back to reality, Stiles found Derek looking right at him. And the rest of the pack too. But mostly Derek. He swallowed hard, pretty sure his heart had skipped a beat, and attempted his best smile.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Lydia sighed heavily. “The hunters, Stiles.”

“The what now?”

“The hunters that have come to Beacon Hills chasing after the wendigo. The entire reason we’re here tonight.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, licking his lips. “That. What about them?”

“Were you listening to a single thing?”

“I was… distracted.”

He could’ve sworn Derek’s lips twitched. Stiles clenched his jaw and looked anywhere else, which just so happened to be Erica’s savage grin. So instead, he turned his gaze toward Lydia. And she just looked disappointed.

“We could use your help in figuring out who these hunters are and how to get in contact with them, Stiles.”

Stiles blinked at her. Then he grinned and waved a hand through the air, much to Jackson’s rolling eyes. “Oh, I’ve got that, easy-peasy. Give me like, three days.”

Lydia eyed him for a moment more before nodding. Stiles drifted off again as she began talking once more. He kept his gaze on the floor, but he was pretty sure someone was watching him for the entire rest of the hour. And he was pretty sure he knew who that someone was.

Stiles didn’t plan on meeting Derek’s gaze again, though.

Except when the meeting ended and the rest of the pack started to filter out of the loft, Stiles’s name called through the air made him pause. He went rigid and at his side, Scott gave him a confused look. 

Stiles would like to say he didn’t need a moment to rein himself in, but he definitely swallowed hard and took a deep breath before giving Scott a disarming smile.

“My bad, dude. I told Derek I would stay for a little longer to go over things. Text me when you get home?”

Scott’s face brightened and he nodded. Stiles got a clap on the shoulder before Scott was hurrying out of the loft, heading after Allison. And Stiles had no doubts the boy would be putting these Stiles-free moments to some good use.

Slowly, he turned back around, folding his arms over his chest.

“What, asshole?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles scowled.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, fur-face. I’m not afraid to go grab my baseball bat and beat you with it. Do you realize how pissed off I am right now?”

The corners of Derek’s mouth twitched again. But Stiles hadn’t meant that to be funny, dammit. Before he could say another word, though, the look faded and Derek frowned a little bit. 

“You’ve been avoiding the loft lately.”

“Uh, yeah. Was I not supposed to?”

Derek dropped his gaze. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles stepped forward and the man tensed a little. But Stiles didn’t pause until they were inches apart, tilting his chin upward.

“What the hell is that look supposed to mean, Sourwolf? I wasn’t the one that took off like it was hot two weeks ago. And that was just rude, you know. Really fan-freaking-tasticly rude.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorr— Yeah, dude, you should be! I’m a damn good kisser, asshole, and I totally deserved better than a panicked retreat—”

_Fuck Derek Hale._

That’s what Stiles would like to say, at lesat, as the man was suddenly kissing him again. Yeah, that’s what Stiles would like to say. If he wasn’t too busy trying to keep his brain from logging offline, that is.

Because this totally hadn’t been what Stiles was hoping for from the moment he’d stepped foot into the loft. But… maybe it was. Stiles was only human, okay? And Derek was a damn good kisser too.

Stiles didn’t know at what point Derek’s fingers had tightened in his hair, tilting his head back, but then there were sharp teeth skating down his throat. And he didn’t whine, he _didn’t,_ but when Derek growled, maybe he did. Just a little bit.

“Damn asshole.”

The man grinned against his skin. Stiles hated him.

He changed his mind about that when Derek’s lips latched onto the skin above his collarbone and sucked. In fact, he was pretty sure there was a litany of curse that fell from his own mouth. Which he could totally claim were out of spite later but…

Derek bit down lightly and Stiles’s brain went offline.

“God,” Derek murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”

Stiles didn’t blush. He didn’t.

Suddenly, his legs were wrapped around Derek’s waist and the man was carrying him out of the main room. Stiles would totally admire how unfair it was that Derek could carry him so easily, and how his muscles did so many unfair sexy things when he did… Later. Much later.

When Stiles wasn’t feeling like certain parts of him were about to explode.

Stiles ended up on the bed, legs still wrapped around Derek’s waist, and he could have shivered at the way the man looked at him. This was zero to a hundred from an accidental kiss two weeks ago, but Stiles didn’t think there was a single part of him complaining.

“Stiles…”

“You,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “Either need to kiss me again, start taking off a few articles of clothing, or put those fangs to good use. Because I swear to god, Sourwolf, if you try to run again—”

The man very efficiently shut him up with a hard kiss. Stiles all but melted into it.

The moment Stiles found his shirt pulled off around his head, nothing happened for far too long. He blinked up, chest still heaving, to see Derek studying him. The man’s eyes were dilated black and he reached out, one finger tracing across Stiles’s skin. Stiles shivered despite himself and a flicker of red sparked in Derek’s eyes.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Stiles’s breaths stalled. He couldn’t quite believe those words had come from Derek Hale’s mouth. But before he could even stop to think about it twice, there was a warm mouth moving across his chest and Stiles jerked sharply.

A large hand rested on his stomach, keeping him flat on the mattress. Stiles groaned.

“Derek, I swear to god—”

The man’s mouth moved across his chest, sucking a mark, and Stiles yelped, nearly smacking the man across the face. But Derek’s expression was nothing other than amused as he caught Stiles’s wrists and pinned them above his head, one brow raising.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

_Jesus._

“Try to stay quiet,” Derek murmured, mouthing down Stiles’s neck again. “Understand?”

And hell if that didn’t send heat straight to Stiles’s groin.

There were a million different replies on the tip of his tongue, but Stiles did his best to bite them down. He was pretty sure he made a small noise when the man’s free hand moved underneath his jeans, wrapping around his hardening dick, but Stiles would totally blame that on the surprise. Because fuck, this was happening.

This was actually happening.

Derek stroked him a few times and Stiles bit down on his tongue, trying valiantly to stay silent. But when the man’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock, Stiles lost it, a moan falling off his lips.

Derek glanced up, eyes red, and Stiles promptly choked on his own breath. He was pretty sure he didn’t have a ‘yes sir’ kink but yeah, that could probably do it for him.

“You’re so loud,” Derek murmured, letting go of Stiles’s wrists to trace his fingers down Stiles’s chest. Stiles arched up against it and the man smirked.

“Too loud.”

“I don’t appreciate being shamed for my beautiful voice.”

“I thought I told you to stay quiet.”

Stiles snapped his mouth back closed, glaring at the man. Derek hooked his fingers around the waistband of his boxers and jeans, and pulled them off with surprising carefulness. Stiles instantly felt his face turn red, resisting the urge to cover his junk.

Because underneath Derek’s clothed, hungry gaze, he felt unfairly bare.

“You planning on getting naked too, Sourwolf?”

Derek raised a brow. Stiles felt a flush creep down his neck.

“Just asking.”

He’d seen Derek shirtless a million times before, but this time felt totally new. Stiles could admire the way the man’s chest flexed all day and his mouth went dry as Derek stepped out of his jeans too. It was like he’d been dunked in cold water and his heart hammered against his chest.

“Better?”

“How come I never knew you were a smug asshole in bed?”

“I could be worse.”

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”

The man smirked, reaching toward the bedside table and pulling out a half-empty bottle of lube. Stiles did his best not to shiver, but from the look Derek gave him, the man knew exactly what was going on in his head. Stiles’s breaths hitched when the man uncapped the bottle and Stiles bit down on the inside of his cheek, silently cursing himself.

He wasn’t freaking out. He totally wasn’t freaking out.

“Derek, I—”

Stiles cut off when a cold finger brushed down, rubbing against his hole. He closed his eyes for a moment and whined, and Derek leaned forward, breaths warm against his collarbone. “Yes?”

“I haven't— this hasn’t— uh… This is new.”

Derek drew back. Stiles winced.

“I mean, I’ve definitely done things before. You know, with my fingers and all that. Just not beyond a certain point—”

“Stiles, have you ever done this before?”

Hating himself, Stiles shook his head. There was no more sexy smug look on Derek’s face as the man took a step back. And Stiles’s heart plunged. “I want to though.”

“Stiles, I’m not taking your first time.”

This time, when Stiles’s mouth went dry, it wasn’t due to anything other than internal self-hatred. Because what the hell had he been thinking? This was Derek Hale. A literal greek god. Of course he wouldn’t want this inexperienced mess. Stiles had no idea what he was doing; and he’d already done something wrong.

“Right,” Stiles said, pulling the sheets around himself. As if that would somehow cover up any of the things that had just gone on. “I should have said something earlier. I’m sorry.”

“Stiles,” Derek said quietly, stepping forward. Stiles hated himself for the way his eyes burned, turning his face away..

“Dude, it’s fine, I can go—”

“I’m not taking your first time,” Derek said. “Until I’ve taken you out to dinner. At least once.”

Stiles looked back at him. “What?”

“Twice then?”

Stiles just stared at him. Because he’d heard wrong, hadn’t he? Derek didn’t want to have sex with him. He most certain didn’t want to _date_ him. Because that’s what it would be, right? Is that what dinner counted as?

“Stiles?”

Stiles blinked a few times. “This is not how I was expecting this night to go.”

The man’s smirk came back. “Is that a yes, then?”

“You want to go out. With me.”

“Stiles, I was about to do a lot more than that.”

And suddenly, Stiles was shivering again. He glared at the man, even more so when Derek’s smirk widened. “Dammit, Derek, you can’t say things like that if _things_ aren’t happening.”

“I said I wouldn’t fuck you,” Derek said, moving closer. Stiles thought he might have blacked out for a second when the man kneeled between his legs, nudging them open. “I didn’t say nothing else could happen.”

“You’re… messing with me.”

The man raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t a very fair image from his current position. Stiles swallowed hard, feeling shaky again.

“You’re not messing with me.”

“I want to blow you.”

_Fuck._

Derek was waiting for an answer, the utter asshole, and Stiles just managed to nod. The man’s lips twisted in a smirk before he wrapped a hand around Stiles’s cock and fuck _,_ Stiles wasn’t prepared in any way for this.

Derek’s lips were sinful. Stiles is hard again in moments and he grabbed handfuls of the sheets, throwing back his head as he bit back a moan. Derek glanced up, warm mouth leaving Stiles’s dick with a wet pop, and he could have cried. “I want to hear you this time.”

“Goddammit, Derek—”

“Stiles, you’re not coming until you say my name.”

_Fucking hell._

Stiles thought he managed a nod. But then Derek’s mouth was on his dick again and he was definitely moaning now. He caught Derek’s hair with one hand and tightened his grip as the man growled, the vibrations around Stiles’s cock making him whimper. He thrust up suddenly and Derek gagged a little. Stiles’s face went hot.

“Shit, I’m sorry—”

Derek only sucked, hollowing his cheeks, and Stiles’s words turned into a stream of curses. He was pretty sure the man would have grinned if he could have.

Stiles was transfixed on the sight of Derek Hale’s mouth on his dick _._ Because that was an actual thing. Stiles’s own hand would never please him again. His righty was no longer his favorite body part and dammit, handjobs were _ruined_ for Stiles.

It was all Derek’s fault.

The man sucked hard again and that thought was gone as quickly as it had come. Stiles was panting hard now, chest rising and falling in heavy heaves. He tightened his grip on Derek’s hair, loosened it, and resisted the urge to thrust up again.

He wasn’t such how much longer he’d have control over his own body. His brain was already a mess.

“Derek, fuck, Derek—”

The man swallowed around his dick. Stiles yelped.

“Furry asshole!”

Derek pulled off his dick and Stiles’s yelp turned into a pitiful whimper. His hand dropped from Derek’s hair to the sheets and the man licked a stripe up his dick before squeezing the base and raising a brow from his spot in between Stiles’s legs. “I told you, Stiles. My name.”

“Derek, _Derek,_ _please.”_

“Please what?”

“Please let me come, you smug asshole.”

“Attitude.”

“I’ll show you attitude—”

Stiles bucked up with another yelp as Derek wrapped his lips around the head of Stiles’s cock again. Two large hands found his hips, pushing him back down and holding him still. Stiles whimpered, heat coiling stronger and stronger in his gut. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and scrabbled weakly at Derek’s shoulders. The man flicked his tongue over the tip of Stiles’s dick and then swallowed him down again.

Stiles could _feel_ sweat on his forehead. Feel his heart thundering against his chest. His fingers curled against Derek’s skin and he keened.

“Derek, _Derek,_ I’m gonna come—”

The man hollowed his cheeks again and Stiles was done. He came with a shout, still trying to arch upward, and he didn’t think Derek’s mouth ever left his cock. He’d was pretty sure the man sucked the literal soul out of him and Stiles would have killed himself laughing if he wasn’t struggling so hard for breath.

He just gasped for a moment, chest heaving. There was sweat on his forehead, his neck. Stiles closed his eyes and only managed a small noise as Derek’s warm mouth left his cock. He all but dropped back onto the sheets and Derek rose over him, looking more than a little pleased with himself.

“I guess that counts as my name. It’s good enough for now.”

“Stupid smug ass.”

“You feeling okay?”

“I feel like you just sucked my soul out of my dick.”

Derek’s eyes danced. Stiles hated him.

Totally.

He gestured toward Derek’s own dick and was pretty sure that was the most unromantic thing he’d ever done. But Stiles was tired, dammit. Whether it was from Derek Hale being naked in front of him, Derek Hale asking him out to dinner, or Derek Hale just giving him the best blowjob of his life. Well, the only blowjob of his life. But hopefully not for much longer.

“Want me to…?”

“Seriously, Stiles?”

“Shut up. You broke my brain.”

“I broke your brain.”

“Yes. And you break it, you buy it. I hope that dinner invitation was genuine.”

The man’s face softened. He pressed soft kisses against Stiles’s skin and then brushed his lips over Stiles’s own. Stiles was too tired to even kiss him back. The man smiled around his mouth. “It was.”

“Good. Cause I wanna do this again. And repay the favor.”

“So soon?”

“If anything else happens tonight, Sourass, I’m gonna die.”

Derek huffed. Calloused hands slid underneath his back and the man situated Stiles better in bed, so the pillows were underneath his head. And then he was gone. For a moment, Stiles stared at the ceiling in confusion, and then he heard the sound of Derek padding back into the room. He blinked at the man and the rag he held.

Then Stiles grinned then despite himself. “Repaying the favor from two weeks ago then, huh?”

“I’m cleaning you up.”

“Exactly.”

Derek only rolled his eyes and settled on the edge of the bed, wiping the rag over Stiles’s skin. It was blissfully cool and Stiles shivered just a little, Derek’s warm hands against his skin a sharp contrast against the cold cloth. The man’s lips twitched.

“Sorry.”

“Shut up, Sourwolf.”

The man just smiled, brushing another kiss over Stiles’s collarbone. Stiles was pretty sure he was going to have more than one mark there from earlier, but he was also more than fine with that. It made his skin tingle, if nothing else. Being covered in Derek’s marks.

Still, this was so not how he’d seen his night going.

“Tired,” Stiles said, whining a little. Derek rolled his eyes, drawing the cloth back.

“Will Scott freak out if you don’t go home tonight?”

“Nah, he’s with Allison.”

“Will your father come over and shoot me?”

Stiles huffed, even though he was pretty sure Derek was dead serious. The man sounded like it, at least. “He’s on a night shift.”

“Okay,” Derek said softly. “You can stay.”

“How nice of you, Sourpuss.”

Derek just shook his head. But then the man climbed into bed next to him, rolling Stiles onto his side and pulling him against his bare skin, and Stiles hummed softly. Derek was warm in the cool air. His fingers brushed patterns against Stiles’s skin and this… this…

Well, it was unexpected. But Stiles was quietly content.

“Sourwolf?”

“Go to sleep, Stiles.”

Stiles blinked, exhausted. But there was one more thing he had to say. “You’re pretty beautiful too.”

The man chuckled against his skin, stubble brushing over the back of his neck. And Stiles grinned a little, tired eyes fluttering closed. Because he was so totally okay with this non-accident.

And the accidental way it had started.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompts: “Try to stay quiet, understand?” & “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” & “God, you’re so beautiful" as well as the Sterek and Co kink prompt: Dominant. Also, I've sort of written smut but not actually written smut so I apologize if this is a mess from start to finish XD
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Or on my favorite Sterek discord!
> 
> [not a dumpster](https://discord.gg/78RjqwY)


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